Bearing Gifts
by Jantallian
Summary: Kings are in short supply in Wyoming, but men – unwise and wise - not to mention some women, are travelling from afar. Old acquaintances and new encounters bring with them unexpected predicaments, pains, problems and, of course, presents. UPDATED April 16 with minor additions linking to 'Company of Strangers'. (J & C AU 3)


**Bearing gifts**

Jantallian

"I bought it." Andy Sherman stood his ground and clutched the halter rope determinedly.

"You - bought - it?" His tall elder brother towered over him, a frown creasing his normally cheerful countenance.

"Bought _her_ , by the looks of it!" Jess Harper was leaning on the tail-gate of the wagon, a barely concealed grin twitching his lips as he watched the latest confrontation over the animal world between Andy and Slim.

"You bought a donkey? A pregnant donkey!" Slim sounded stunned, but his practical good sense soon asserted itself. "What with?" he demanded crossly.

"My Christmas money," Andy told him, now sounding slightly defiant.

"What, all of it?" Slim knew how hard Andy had saved and it was obvious that he had really enjoyed plotting the secret presents he would buy.

"Yeah." Andy shot a glance at Jess, who was less likely to be cautious in money matters. He thought he saw a smile under the brim of the battered black hat, but could not be sure because Jess was staring hard at the ground.

"And I can't take her back to school, so the three of you will have to share her."

This was too much for Jess, who burst into delighted laughter. "Come on, Slim, admit it - wouldn't you rather have a live reminder of Andy than another pair of socks?"

"You were gettin' the socks," Andy informed him cheekily, " 'cos Jonesy says he ain't never seen darnin' worse than yours!"

"Hasn't ever," Slim corrected automatically, but was over-ridden by Jess, who grabbed Andy and tipped him upside down: "That's 'cos he never looks at your brother's efforts, so take that back, you little varmint!"

"Pack it in, the pair of you!" Slim ordered, aware of the puzzled gaze of the passers-by thronging the side-walk as they completed their purchase of supplies before everything closed down for Christmas. Honestly, sometimes it was like dealing with two kid brothers, not one!

Jess dumped Andy back on his feet again and asked with a chuckle, "What in the world made you buy her, Andy? Apart from the fact that she's got four legs and beautiful eyes."

"She has, hasn't she?" Wonder filled Andy's voice. Then he explained: "There was a young couple in an old wagon, they were desperate to get to Cheyenne and they were going to have to abandon her because she would hold them up. They looked pretty poor, so I bought her from them instead."

Slim and Jess looked at each other across the wagon, looks that conveyed considerable pride in Andy's decision, even if the result was going to cause some logistical problems.

"All right, Andy," his brother told him, "Hitch her to the back. We'll lift her on when we start home. We're nearly finished here, aren't we?"

He got a confirming nod from Jess as he leaned over the tail -gate and produced a net of hay, which he tied up where the little animal could reach it. "Better fetch her some water, Andy. Don't look like she's been doin' too well recently."

As he took the bucket, Andy nodded in agreement. "I'm sure they weren't cruel, but they were very poor."

"And they were heading for Cheyenne?" Slim queried.

"Yeah." Andy staggered back from the water trough with a slopping bucket. "They asked the quickest route and I told them the top road as far as us - it was only a light wagon."

Slim and Jess exchanged glances again, but respected Andy's use of his local knowledge and judgement by keeping any reservations they had to themselves.

"Twenty minutes more," Slim told the other two. "I'll finish off at the bank. Jess, can you call in for the mail, if there is any?"

"Yeah, if you let me take the wagon for all those fancy parcels you'll be gettin' from love-struck females all over the country!"

"Just shut up and get on with it, will you!" This time it was Andy and Jess who exchanged amused looks; for some reason Slim's fair complexion was suddenly coloured by a flush which his tan did not entirely disguise.

"I'm goin'," Jess ducked out of arm's reach in case of retaliation, saying as he did so, "C'm on, Andy. I may need a spare pair of hands!" The two of them made off rapidly in the direction of the office before Slim could do more than shake his fist at them.

Andy got a surprise in respect of parcels when they reached the head of the queue. Jess fished into the inner pocket of his jacket and produced one of his own, which he handed over to Joe Staines, the postmaster. It was flattish, about the size of a very small book, although Andy could not imagine Jess sending a book to anyone; anyway, it was far too carefully padded in wrapping for a book. Something breakable, maybe?

Once the little parcel had been handed over, Joe reached behind the counter and produced a bundle of letters. "Mostly bills, I guess," he prophesied gloomily. "But the one on the top is for you, personal, Jess."

"Yeah?" Jess's eyebrows shot up as he looked at the handwriting on the envelope. He did not wait, but stuck his thumb under the flap right away. As he slit open the envelope, something fell to the floor with a soft rattle. Jess stooped and picked it up. He remained quite still for a moment, looking intently at the object in his hand. It was a small mother of pearl button.

Then he straightened up. Just for a moment, Andy saw an expression on his face that he had never seen before, on Jess or on anyone else - unless there was a memory far back in his mind of how his father had looked at his mother in moments when he thought no-one else was looking.

The look was gone almost before Andy had registered it, but it was not his imagination, because Jess laughed - a quiet laugh of simple pleasure and amusement. He pulled out the enclosing note, read the few brief words, then turned back to the counter and said: "Better give me that parcel back, Joe. Looks like I can save the postage."

"No, y' cain't," he was told. "This here's bin posted an' it's gonna be delivered."

"Just mark it return to sender," Jess told him. "Come on, Joe, you wouldn't wanna ruin someone's Christmas by sendin' that parcel to the wrong place, now would y'?" His expression, as he said this, combined heart-rending appeal and mischievous humour in equal measures. When he wanted to, Jess could plead with irresistible charm.

Joe sighed, wrote on the little parcel and handed it back to him. As he did so, he glanced at the address and his scowl transformed into a grin. "Guess I'm an incurable romantic!" he quipped.

Jess grinned back. "That's more'n I am. I'm just savin' gettin' my ears chewed off when it don't arrive at the right place!" He picked up the other mail for the relay station and made for the door.

Andy followed him thoughtfully. He'd been away at school since the end of the summer and that rescue which had turned out to be much more than they had both bargained for. Maybe there was still more to the story than he or anyone else knew. But his instinctive sensitivity kept him from probing - or worse, trying to tease information out of Jess, who strode back to the wagon exactly as if nothing at all had happened. Except that the little parcel was safely stowed back in his jacket pocket.

A flurry of snowflakes drifted down the street, like torn-up letters tumbling at their heels as they made their way back to the wagon. Although it was only early afternoon, it was getting rapidly colder and Slim was stamping impatiently from foot to foot, eager to get on the road home.

"Sorry, couldn't manage all the parcels!" Jess teased as he handed over the mail. "They'll send a special stage later."

"You just wait!" Slim threatened, making a futile grab for his tormentor and quite forgetting his previous strictures on the behaviour of brothers. Andy did consider giving Jess away, but the fact that Slim had chased him round the wagon, managed to pin him against the tail-gate and was threatening to make him eat the hay, deterred him. In any case, they were interrupted by a cheerful hail from another wagon that drew alongside them.

"Merry Christmas!"

They looked up and saw their nearest neighbour, Dan Travers, grinning cheerfully at them. More important, from the point of view of at least one of the young men, glowing next to him was the bright face of his daughter, Sally.

"Getting your Christmas supplies in?"

"Yeah, this is our last trip," Slim confirmed.

"Picked the mistletoe this year, Andy?" Sally asked with a warm smile - but she was not just looking at Andy.

"Sure have!" the boy responded, "but Jess insisted on doing it in daylight this time!"

"Just as well, given his performance last year!" Dan was laughing reminiscently.

"Never mind last year, let's get this year's problem loaded up," Jess suggested hastily, not wanting to dwell on the near-disaster of last Christmas, however well it had turned out in the end.

"Sweet!" Sally spotted the donkey, who was so small she had been entirely hidden by the wrestling match between Slim and Jess. Together they were able to lift her easily into the back of the wagon, where Andy had already made a warm bed of sacks and some old blankets he had found. The little creature was either very docile or very exhausted, as she seemed perfectly content to fold up her fragile legs and lie there with Andy holding her halter.

"More use than a fawn," Dan observed. "You still got that little 'un, Andy?"

"She comes back when she needs to," Andy told him, " 'cos she knows it's home."

"Time for us to get home too," Slim reminded him. "Jonesy'll be climbing the walls if he doesn't get his supplies soon!"

"Martha's the same," Dan agreed. "You'd think she ain't got Sally to help her."

"You driving along with us?" Slim asked, not feeling able to ask his real question, which was how long Sally would be home.

"Good to have company on the road," Dan affirmed. "Besides, we were goin' to call. Got a small gift for you."

Courtesy prevented Slim from protesting that he hoped they had not spent their hard-earned trade money on it, so he was mightily relieved when Dan explained laughingly: "Last Christmas, you brought us some fuel. We had a big apple tree come down in the spring gales and I've been savin' you a good piece for a Yule log. Burns as sweet as you could wish."

"That's right friendly, thank you!" Slim replied.

"A friendship log!" Andy renamed it delightedly and they all laughed as the wagons moved off, leaving Jess to collect Traveller from the Livery Stable and catch them up. This he did in due course, but not quite as quickly as they had expected. When he did appear, he was not alone, but accompanied by two huge draught horses and, perched aboard one of them, their old friend, Smudge, the haulage driver.

"When Jess heard as me 'n Bessie 'n Tally wuz set to spend Christmas in the Livery together," the old man explained squeakily, "that boy just held that gun o' his to me head and insisted I come along!"

Jess shook his head and corrected this assertion: "I said you'd shoot me on account, Slim, if I didn't bring him!"

Slim willingly responded to Jess's generous impulse and reinforced the invitation at once: "Jonesy'll be tickled pink to have you there to sing along with that piano of his." It was a very old joke, because Smudge maintained that his singing was so bad the horses would pull twice as hard just trying to get away from it!

That set everyone off singing as they drove. Sally's sweet, true tone was joined by Andy's clear treble soaring above the deep swell of four assorted male voices in familiar carols and some new and popular ones. Though the rumble of two wagons and the hiss of the winter wind were loud, the sound of human rejoicing sailed out into the wide sky and scurrying snow clouds. Already there was a light covering of snow on the ground and the skies promised more. Time to get home and stoke the fires and burn that friendship log.

They were three quarters of the way through a spirited rendition of 'We Three Kings' when they came to the fork in the road where the shorter route made off from the main trail, at which point they made a brief pause to rest the horses. Jess was somewhat relieved, as he had drawn the last, gloomy verse, although the thought of the bitter perfume of the myrrh caused him an ironic inward smile. The upper trail would certainly lead across 'moor and mountain', for it ran over a series of steep and wild ridges. It was less rutted than the main road and better for a horse and rider or perhaps a light carriage, but the inclines would slow the heavier wagons too much.

Slim drew his wagon to a halt and Jess pulled Traveller up alongside him. Without a word spoken, communication flashed between them again.

"Take the fast trail, will you, Jess? The company might just put an extra late stage through this afternoon and one of us ought to be there to help Jonesy."

"You mean, get the coffee on and plenty of food for you slow-pokes," Jess corrected.

"Yeah, that as well, but if you're around he's going to make sure there's plenty of coffee and food anyway!" Slim retorted with a grin.

"But no whiskey!" Jess sounded mournful. "Sure you wouldn't like to take me home instead, Dan?" But he was looking at Sally and flicked her a quick wink, which did not go unnoticed by Slim.

"Get a move on," his boss ordered sternly. "No-one else is going to put up with your appetite for Christmas!"

Jess tipped his hat with a grin."Trav always did prefer the top road!" It was a reminder of his very first and most unpromising encounter with Slim. "See y'all later" He turned Traveller towards the upper route.

Smudge urged his powerful pair of steeds after him. "Mind if'n I join y', Jess? Bess 'n Tally get right bored o' that main trail and all them ruts."

"Sure! Glad of the company, Smudge. It's a lonely road."

The others smiled as they heard two gravelly voices fading into the distance.

" 'Tis that, an' if we meet with any frightnin' strangers in the dark, y' kin hold m' hand."

"Yeah, to stop you fightin'! It's the season of good will, y' know."

"Good will maybe, providin' there ain't no women gettin' to stir things up."

"What d' you prefer then - angels?"

"Ain't never met no woman yet that was an angel ..."

Slim stirred at this. He had done his best to send a guardian angel on that rough mountain road, but it wasn't female - it was wearing a battered black hat.

# # SS # AS # #

Somehow they skipped Jess's verse as the wagons drove off again, but everyone put their full volume into the last verse and chorus. The idea of an epic journey, following a star, fired Andy's imagination but some parts of it seemed unlikely to him. When the carol was finished, he put his queries to his well-read elder brother. "How come it was kings bringing the gifts, Slim? I'd have thought they'd have sent a servant or something. They surely couldn't just take off on a wild journey like that and leave their countries to run themselves?" If Andy, and indeed Slim, had in mind someone who would certainly take off on just such a wild quest, they did not name the culprit.

Slim turned on the front seat, his brow creased in thought. "I guess people thought they were kings because they brought expensive gifts like gold, Andy, so it's become part of our Christmas tradition. But you know that's not what the bible says. They were wise men, men who studied the stars. That's how they knew where to travel."

"Good!" his brother replied. "I don't mind being a wise man, but I don't feel really comfortable saying I'm a king." His republican principles were in no doubt.

Slim laughed and said, as he turned his attention back to the road once more, "That won't fit with the music, but, yes, I guess we'd all like to be wise!"

"Perhaps we all are, in our own way?" They were alongside the other wagon on one of the wider stretches of road and Sally had overheard their discussion.

"Wise enough to take care of each other and people who need us," Dan agreed. He was thinking of his wife, Martha, and perhaps sparing a thought for a dark-haired young man on a lonely trail, whom she'd patched up on more than one occasion.

"Does 'wise' mean people who teach you?" Andy asked thoughtfully. When the others nodded in agreement, he concluded: "Then I guess you and Jess are my wise men!"

"Good thought, Andy," Dan complimented, daring Slim to dispute this definition. Slim however, was distracted by the sight of Sally's approving expression.

"And I don't rightly understand about the gifts," Andy continued. "Gold is obvious – anyone'd be glad to have that, and I guess incense would make a nice smell if you were in a stable with the animals. But what's myrrh? It doesn't sound like a good thing to give anyone."

There was a little pause, then Sally answered softly, "It's a natural oil that used to be used a lot, as a disinfectant and to help heal wounds. Once it was very important."

Andy's face lit up. "Like Jonesy makes?" Sally nodded and he continued with great satisfaction, "That make sense. Jonesy says the earth gives us all we need to be healthy."

"Wise man, Jonesy," Dan affirmed, as he urged his team onward towards the house where Jonesy was no doubt waiting impatiently for them.

The wagons rolled on companionably, sometimes side by side, sometimes following each other in train. The afternoon was wearing on, the sky filled with increasingly heavy clouds that threatened snow – or promised, depending on your view point – and the shadows of the trees, thrown by the weak and intermittent sun, fell dark across the road. They had forded the river and were not far from the relay station, moving slowly uphill, when everything changed.

Suddenly, out of the shadows ahead of them, Slim, in the lead wagon, saw a totally unexpected sight. A tall man, almost a giant, burst out of the trees on the western side of the road and staggered determinedly towards them. On his shoulders, a child was perched. For a moment, Slim thought he was seeing a vision of St Christopher, but he quickly realized that the huge effort the man was making argued a purely human nature. He pulled the wagon to a halt and leapt down. Dan quickly followed him.

"Help! Please help!" The man was gasping for breath and hardly able to stand, let alone walk. It was a miracle that he had managed to keep going at all. Slim moved swiftly to support him and Dan reached up and lifted the child, a boy of about two, from his shoulders. The man sank to his knees and, strong though he was, Slim was not able to support his weight, for he was easily six and a half feet tall and build accordingly. His eyes rolled in his head and he was losing consciousness.

"Sally!" Dan called. "Get down. We need you!"

Sally was already over the side of the second wagon and running to join them. Andy too jumped down, unsure if he could do anything, but driven by his innate Sherman instinct to help people. When he joined the group in the road, the man was lying prostrate and Sally and Slim were kneeling by the body, frantically trying to find out what was wrong. Drawing closer, Andy looked at the man and gave a gasp: "It's him!"

"Who, Andy?" Slim looked up in surprise.

"The young man I bought the donkey from! What's he doing down here, on this road?"

"We'd all like to know that," Slim said grimly, looking at what he and Sally had discovered. "But we've got to get him home as quick as we can. He'll need all the help Jonesy and Sally can give him." Investigation had revealed that, beneath his jacket, the man's shirt was soaked with blood. There was a big rent in it and, protruding from the gap, the jagged end of a long splinter of wood that had driven in below his collar bone.

Having reached help, the man had collapsed completely into blessed oblivion. The child was too young to be able to give them any information, except that this was his papa. Sally went back to their wagon to find some clean material for a temporary bandage, then dealt skilfully and efficiently with the wound, but made no attempt to remove the splintered wood – that needed better equipment and a safer place than the road or the wagon. When this was done, Dan handed the little one over to Andy's care, while the adults gently rolled the man into a blanket and secured him as tightly as they could. Then Dan moved up his wagon and together the two men lifted the patient carefully up into Sally's care.

She raised a worried face to her father: "He needs a doctor."

"Ain't no way we can get one, Sal. We've no saddle horses and it's one long walk back to Laramie."

"No chance of a doctor there, anyway." Slim hated to impart bad news, but he had heard in town that the old doctor had finally been persuaded to spend Christmas with his daughter in Denver and his partner, known of course as 'Young Doc', had been called out to one of the ranches north of town where an entire family had gone down with fever. "We need to get him home. Jonesy knows nearly as much as a doctor – and you haven't been training for nothing, Sally!"

Andy, who had been listening anxiously, was somewhat reassured by this thought. He lifted the little boy into the Sherman wagon and was heartened to see his face light up as he recognised the donkey with which he was sharing his transport. The child was obviously exhausted too and no sooner had the wagon begun to move again than he curled up trustingly in Andy's arms and slept.

The wagons rolled on, as fast as the drivers dared to encourage the teams, given the injured man they were carrying. It had begun to snow heavily and the driving flakes made visibility poor. They all knew that it was not far to the relay station – a couple of miles at most – but those miles were the hardest and longest imaginable.

# # JH # CP # #

The first slope of the top trail was a hard climb, but all three horses were fresh and eager to go. As Jess and Smudge rode away, they could hear fragmented strains of the carol blown after them by the lively wind.

"… _star … wonder … beauty bright … westward leading …"_

"Ain't no stars in the west tonight," Smudge observed, "so's good job you 'n me know where we're headin' without 'em!"

"Yeah, guess any wise man would be makin' tracks for home as fast as his horse could carry him!" Jess suited his action to his words and urge Traveller into a gallop. Behind him, the two big draught horses thundered along happily, delighted to stretch their legs without anything to pull. If Smudge was tempted to ask what was the all-fire hurry, he was prevented because the rush of air, not to mention the wind, would have drowned his voice. He noticed, however, that despite the speed at which they were travelling, Jess seemed to be scouting on the look-out for something. Smudge kept his own shrewd eyes fully alert, though he did not know exactly what he was looking for.

Even with this vigilance, they almost missed the wrecked wagon in the shadow of tumbled rocks, with which its battered canvas blended uncannily. It had rolled off the trail at a point where a spring fountained out of the rocky hillside, drenching the margins of a deep pool under the rocks. The ground was treacherous and marshy. The wagon was tilted at an angle by the slope, the shafts driven into the soft ground, and the horse missing.

Jess jumped down from Traveller, leaving him to stand on the firm footing of the trail. He approached the wagon cautiously, as it was very precariously balanced, and surveyed the ground around it thoughtfully. "Looks like the horse fancied a drink and got itself mired up here." It didn't need an expert tracker to see the deeply churned up mud and the broken edge of the pool. "Someone cut it loose. Tried to move the wagon back too." His head went up abruptly as there was a faint sound from the far side of the wagon.

They both hastened round the back and found that someone had constructed a bivouac shelter with a big piece of tarpaulin draped over a hollow in the rocks. Bedding was heaped inside and, crouched in the middle of it, was a young woman. Andy's young woman, presumably. What he had omitted to tell them was that she was heavily pregnant.

Smudge saw Jess's shoulders stiffen as he took in this sight. Then he consciously made himself relax, stooped down to kneel by her and asked gently, "Are you hurt, ma'am?"

The young woman shook her head and promptly fainted.

Jess backed out of the shelter and looked at Smudge. The old man grinned at him: "Danged if'n I ever made females faint at the sight of me! That's a powerful personality y've got, boy – or maybe it's jest y'r looks at close quarters!"

"Simplifies things." Jess ignored the jibe and was rapidly assessing the situation and the possibility of rescue. "Can we get that wagon back on the track, Smudge?"

"We cain't," Smudge told him with another chuckle, "but I guess Bessie and Tally'll oblige us by doin' it for us."

"Fine. Check the wheels will you? I'll have a look at the shafts."

"Seems to me like you was expectin' this, Jess?" Smudge observed, as he worked round the wagon.

"This or somethin'." Jess didn't explain any further, as he suddenly drew in a sharp breath with a hiss of surprise. In attempting to lift the broken shaft his hands had slipped on the snow-sodden wood and the sharp end of the split pole drove a long, but fortunately shallow, cut up his forearm. Being Jess, he immediately switched his mind back to the task, ignoring the injury. He unhitched a rope coil from the side of the wagon and began methodically to bind and strengthen the broken part. It was while he was doing this that he noticed the blood – and it wasn't his own.

"What's up, Jess?" Smudge appeared round the side of the wagon to find him gazing transfixed at the ground. He looked down too and his eyes widened. "What d'y' make o' that?"

Jess pointed to the blood-stained snow and the tracks leading off into the trees. "Someone tried to shift the wagon back up to the trail. Hell of an effort. Must be real strong. I guess it ran forward and the broken shaft sliced into him somewhere. But he kept goin'. See the tracks? Snow's beginin' to fill them – ain't been snowin' that hard, so it was at least an hour ago. An' he was carryin' somethin'."

The old man looked down at the little boot-prints mingling with the adult ones around the wagon. He looked up and met Jess's eyes. Even Smudge's weathered countenance had gone pale and Jess looked as if someone had hit him hard in the stomach.

"He built that shelter and moved the woman, to keep her safe in case the wagon slipped again," Jess reminded them both. "Then I guess he went for help – tried the quickest way back t' the main road. Must've taken the kid with him in case it strayed away. Even if we could track them, we can't leave her here. Let's get that wagon back in business."

"The angels helpin' us!" Smudge intoned devoutly, but with a chuckle as he moved Bessie and Tally into position.

The muscle-power of the two big horses made hauling the wagon back onto the track a great deal easier than it would had been for a lone man. Jess lifted the shafts one under each arm so that they would not snag on the rough ground, taking care this time to avoid the splintered bits. Smudge began to urge his team on: "Git up there, you rib-shanked ol' pile o' cowardy bait!" The wagon lurched and trembled, then ground its way up, with Jess staggering after it until at last it was where it could be some use once more. Smudge slapped the two steaming necks and produced a titbit for the pair from an inner pocket. "Don't need them hosts o' angels while we'm got these hairy darlin's!"

Jess had disappeared and presently returned carrying the woman in his arms. She was still unconscious, but Smudge refrained from any further jokes. Instead he scrambled back down to collect the bedding and the tarpaulin, which he replaced in the back of the wagon. Then he helped Jess gently lift his burden back into the shelter of the canvas roof. It was going to be far from comfortable, but presumably she had already endured a long journey to reach this point. The relay station was the nearest habitation but they knew the trail got much rougher in this last section. Both of them dreaded to think what this might do to precipitate the woman's labour, but they had no option. To compound their problems, huge snowflakes began to fall inexorably from the amethyst sky.

"Y' goin' to ride back an' fetch the doc, Jess?" Smudge could handle his team perfectly well on his own and was already manoeuvring them to the front of the wagon.

"No doc in town," Jess replied briefly. He had seen Young Doc heading hell for leather north out of Laramie not long after they had arrived and everyone knew about the first holiday ever that Old Doc had allowed himself.

"Ain't never seen no female behave like an angel, but sure could do with one or the other right now!" Smudge complained mournfully.

Jess privately disagreed and wished devoutly that Dan had brought his wife, Martha – whom Jess regarded as no less than a personal angel - with him as well as Sally. "Will you stop goin' on about ang –" Jess stopped abruptly and looked up suddenly, alert for action. "There's a horse comin'."

"Need any help we kin git!" Smudge grunted. "Hosts o' heaven included!"

Jess made no response. He hadn't moved either. He was so still Smudge thought he had frozen on the spot. He looked up, following Jess's gaze along the road.

A horse was moving lightly through the drifting flakes, its dappled coat almost merging with the muted shades of the sky and the snow. Its mane and tail streamed out, matching the pure silver of its white-clad rider's floating hair. Smudge found he was holding his breath in wonder, as if this really was some angel, come to aid them.

The angel drew to a halt behind the righted wagon and jumped to the ground, transformed, by that single action, into a slender girl in a white sheepskin coat. She took a few steps towards them.

Jess was looking at her with a formidable scowl. "What the hell are you doin' out here?" he demanded in tones approaching a snarl.

She replied laughingly: "Someone taught me to ride the best trail."

Two strides by Jess brought them face to face. "An' how many times do I have to tell y' to wear a hat?"

She spread her arms wide, embracing the veil of falling snow. "So beautiful!"

There was another frozen pause. Jess stretched out a finger and very gently touched the diamond-bright drops clinging to the cloud of shining hair. "Yeah." They stood without speaking, so still that even Smudge went on holding his breath, motionless in the fragility of a moment rooted in something strong and enduring. Then Jess said almost crossly, "Poco tonto, este no es momento para contar las estrellas. No star-countin' tonight!"

"Habrá estrellas," she assured him, "stars worth travelling for ... But I am pleased to see no cliff!"

Jess looked over his shoulder to the scene of the accident. "Just a very small one," he pointed out, "an' it's caused plenty of damage!"

The girl turned and looked at the wagon and then at Smudge. "Who is this? Introductions, please, Mr. Harper."

She got a further glare from Jess as Smudge gave a wheezing chuckle at this formality. Jess glared at him as well and snapped: "Probably the most cantankerainious old goat you'll ever meet on any trail! Don't recall that I've ever heard his proper name."

"M'name's a bit of a mouthful, miss. Y'd better call me Smudge like that boy does when he 'members his manners!"

"And I am Chantal, Smudge, since Mr. Harper clearly is too dumbstruck to manage the introductions properly."

"Thought y' wuz an angel, Miss Chantal," Smudge grinned toothlessly at her. He turned to the silent young man. "Is she, Jess? An' will she do?"

"She'll do. She won't do a thing y' tell her, but she'll do." Jess reached out his hand again to steer Chantal in the direction of the wagon, but, as he extended it, a bright red drop splashed onto the snow between them. Her eyes flashed wide and before he could react, she grabbed his hand and peeled off the glove. There was a lot more blood, not from his hand, but running down his arm.

Chantal glared at Jess in her turn and pushed up his jacket sleeve, revealing the long cut made by the broken shaft. "Why didn't you do something about this?" she demanded. "And don't give me that 'I'm fine' nonsense. Sometimes you are so stupid!"

This caused Smudge further chuckles, as this very ornamental female was obviously well versed in Harper behaviour. Jess tried to pull back his hand. "Got someone in the wagon who needs help a lot more'n I do!"

"And a fat lot of help you're going to be, dripping blood all over the place! I suppose you didn't think of that?" Chantal snapped in exasperation. "Wait. There must be something we can use in that wagon."

She climbed nimbly into the back and the two men heard a brief murmur of voices. Presently Chantal re-emerged clutching a roll of bandage and a pair of scissors. "I see what you mean." She looked deeply worried, but proceeded to deal briskly with Jess's injury. "Let me fix this. The sooner we get her home the better."

Smudge's bushy eyebrows climbed up his forehead: _Well, well! Wherever this young lady had materialized from, 'home' was obviously the relay station_. He decided that, while the angel was ministering to Jess, the best thing he could do to preserve their common male dignity, in the face of interference by women, was give the young man some privacy and continue to harness Bessie and Tally to the wagon. Chantal and Jess heard him rumbling moodily as he did so: "Give over pushin' in there! If that ain't jest like a female!" They exchanged silent grins as Chantal tied the bandage off neatly.

"Gracias," Jess said briefly.

"Da nada!"

He moved away to help Smudge. Chantal stood looking after him for a few seconds, making a mental note that she must teach him how to say 'hello' properly in normal tones when they met. Then she climbed back into the wagon. The young woman opened her eyes again and managed a rather shaky smile. "Your man didn't think about himself," she told Chantal.

Chantal was not too sure how Jess would react to this assumption of possession, but the diagnosis she could wholeheartedly agree with. "He never does. Sometimes he doesn't think at all!"

"Just acts from the heart," the young woman agreed. "That's obvious. Mine's the same. That's why he rushed off to find help." She caught her breath in a sudden spam of pain.

"The best help we can give is to get you to shelter," Chantal said practically. Having a deep female discussion about the nature of men would have to wait because the baby certainly wasn't going to.

At that moment Jess climbed into the back of the wagon. He looked quickly round and began to shift the meagre contents so that all the soft bedding and clothing was heaped up together in the centre and anything hard was secured so that it would not slide or fall when the wagon jolted, as it would undoubtedly do. Then he very carefully lifted the young woman so that she was protected by the bedding pile. "Sorry I can't do more than this, ma'am. Tal'll stay with you and you couldn't have a better driver than Smudge. He's a wise man and knows this trail blindfold. I'll ride in front to check it's clear and find the smoothest path." He dropped a hand lightly on Chantal's shoulder for a second. "Sé fuerte, PT."

"Tú tambien ..."

The next moment he was gone again. Chantal knelt by the young woman and put her arms round her, ready to support her against the movement when it started. She heard Jess hitching Falcon to the back of the wagon and then Smudge cajoling and urging the big draught horses into action. The wagon gave the first of many lurches and she saw the young woman bite her lip. It was going to be a hard journey, although thankfully not a long one. Time enough to get better acquainted.

"I'm Chantal Picard. What's your name?"

"Lucy Donovan. My man is Russ," Lucy gave another brave smile and joked, "and he's always in a rush! Never stops to plan." Her face clouded again with pain and worry.

"He went for help. Most likely he'll end up at the relay station where we're going. It's the nearest place for miles around."

Lucy did not look comforted. "He doesn't know that. We're strangers, we've travelled so far. We're just trying to reach my cousins in Cheyenne before …" Her breath hitched and she continued shakily: "If he gets lost and our boy with him ..." They both remembered the wild winter mountains surrounding the roads going south.

"They won't stay lost long," Chantal assured her firmly. "Jess is the best tracker in the territory and he won't rest till he's found the child!" A smile of memory touched her lips. "He'll find Russ and your little one."

"Jess?"

As both her hands were occupied, Chantal jerked her chin in the direction they were travelling. "Jess Harper. He works at the relay station and he knows the country round here almost better than anyone." Chantal's voice softened and she smiled a purely private smile again as she remembered her own categorical rejection of the most expert guide.

Lucy nodded, reassured by the confident trust that the other woman evidently placed in this young man. It was a trust that she herself had felt when he first appeared out of the gathering dusk. But she was puzzled by the obvious tension in the way they'd first greeted each other. The girl certainly did look like an angel, fragile and delicate with that cloud of silver-gold hair, and there was no mistaking the dark magnetism of the man – but both their faces were strong and determined and independent. It was a volatile mixture of conflict and cooperation, as unpredictable as the trail they had to travel.

The progress of the wagon was slow, as Smudge sought to avoid the worst of the track and therefore the shaking and lurching. Falling dusk and the ever-changing cloud cover did not help and was compounded by intermittent flurries of snow. He kept more than half an eye on Jess, following his directions when the trail was particularly difficult for the wagon. Inside, Chantal did her best to protect Lucy from the motion. She could see why Jess had put the bedding in the middle of the wagon, for here the pitching and swaying had least effect, but it was still very hard on the pregnant woman and on the one who supported her. The constant jolting throbbed through her aching arms so that even her bones felt sore. They seemed to have gone only a mile or so before Chantal knew that her arms could not take much more punishment and that, for Lucy's sake, she needed help. She opened the canvas front of the wagon and called, "Smudge! Stop!"

The old man slowed the team at once and turned to her anxiously. "Wassa matter?"

"I need Jess!" Chantal told him and, seeing that he was gathering his breath to shout, added, "Don't bother – I'll get him back." She put her fingers to her lips and gave the piercing whistle that Jess used to summon Traveller in an emergency. In the darkness ahead, there was a snort and what sounded like swearing, followed by the swift thud of hooves. Moments later, Traveller appeared at the back of the wagon. His surprised rider lost no time in jumping straight from the saddle into the wagon.

"What's up?" He sounded uncharacteristically panicky.

"I can't hold her steady any more. I'm not strong enough."

"Move over!" Jess slid down beside Lucy and lifted her gently into his arms. Being taller, he could brace his feet against the side of the wagon, giving them both more stability.

Chantal began to get to her feet. "I'll take Trav and –"

"No!"

"I can ride point as well as you."

"Escúchame! She needs you."

"And you don't?"

"Necesito que haga haz lo que digo!" It looked like an unbreakable stand-off until Jess said quietly, "She needs a woman right now."

"Como digas. Shall I hitch Trav?"

"Yeah. And tell Smudge he can start up again." As the wagon began to move and Chantal crouched once more at Lucy's side to give what further support she could, he added: "Try not to fight the movement - move with it just a little, so you're absorbin' the most of the shock for her." Then, "Sorry – should've told you 'bout that right away."

If she was surprised to get an apology, Chantal did not show it. Thinking it over later, she realized Jess had paid her the double compliment of trusting that she would cope, even though wagons on mountain trails were way outside her normal experience, and that she would ask for help if she could not. She rubbed her aching arms, anxious that she had not given Lucy all the support she needed. Her head drooped with weariness for a moment, but she had come through tougher situations than this without giving in. When she looked up again, it was into a pair of bright blue eyes with just a hint of laughter sparkling in the depths of them.

"No worse'n hangin' off the side of a cliff," Jess reminded her, and then softly, "Estás valiente. An' it can't be more'n another mile."

That mile was the hardest and longest imaginable and there would be no relief until they made it to the relay station.

# # SS # AS # #

Jonesy wasn't actually climbing the walls, but he was mightily relieved when the two wagons finally pulled into the yard in a flurry of drifting snowflakes. If he was surprised to see the Travers, he did not show it – hospitality was at the core of all he did and he was more than willing to extend it to neighbours, even though he secretly wanted to get on with the Christmas cooking without more delay. At least Jess wasn't with them and, with his appetite missing – _and where had he got to this time?_ – there would be plenty to go round.

But he soon realized that this was not festive occasion. Slim looked grim and Andy seriously worried. Jonesy automatically put an arm round the boy and demanded "What's up?" Sudden fear that something had happened to Jess unexpectedly gripped his heart. _Darn the boy! His capacity for creatin' anxiety was somethin' out of all proportion to his size!_

Slim hastened to the back of the Travers' wagon. "Found an injured man, Jonesy. He's here."

"Bad?"

"Yeah – bad enough." Slim looked at Sally and she added, "He needs surgery."

"Rest him there. I'll call you." Jonesy did not wait for more information, but hurried back into the house to make ready as best he could for the patient. "Andy, get as much water as y' can on to the stove, then find me those old sheets we put away in the loft." Giving the youngster something positive to contribute was a wise idea. Meanwhile, Jonesy set about clearing the big table, which would have to do as the operating area. When Andy returned, he send him to make up the beds in the little guest bedroom. He himself went back into the yard.

"Bring him," he told them briefly. The two younger men lifted the patient from the wagon, carried him inside and laid him gently down on the table. Slim lifted the young man's shoulders carefully so that Sally could slide off his bedraggled overcoat and the thin shirt and the much-darned undershirt. For a moment the sight tugged at Slim's heart as he remembered how Jess had been in just such a threadbare condition when he first arrived at the relay station. If this young man survived, they must try to do something to equip him better – but his thoughts were soon concentrated on that immediate need for survival.

"Slim, I'll need y' t' hold him firm," Jonesy ordered. "Dan, can you hold the big lamp, and angle it where we tell y'?"

"Sure, Jonesy."

"Let's get washed up then," Jonesy said to Sally, handing her a large, clean apron. It looked ridiculously domestic, but there was no point in getting good clothing bloodstained. Jonesy donned another and then reviewed the surgical instruments that he had acquired over the years of getting bullets and arrow-heads out of people, not to mention equipment for sewing them up afterwards. He'd had everything soaking in boiling water while he made his preparations and just hoped that this would be long enough.

The two prospective surgeons had no sooner sterilized themselves as best they could than, with most unfortunate timing, the young man regained consciousness. "Nathan!" he struggled feebly against Slim's restraining hold, his eyes wide with horror.

"It's all right!" Slim hastened to reassure him, "he's here, he's safe." He knew that Andy would take care of the child without being told.

Relief momentarily relaxed the young man, then he struggled even more painfully. "Lucy! My wife!"

"Don't fret!" Dan's voice was a comforting rumble of assurance and confidence. "A rescue party's on its way." As the young man slumped back onto the table again, Dan cocked an eyebrow at Slim and whispered, "That was what you sent Jess off to do, wasn't it?"

Slim nodded. The fact that Jess had not arrived before them argued that he had found some kind of accident to deal with, but there was nothing any of them could do about that. They had to trust to the combined wisdom of Jess and Smudge to cope with whatever had happened. Meanwhile, they had their own problem to deal with.

Jonesy examined the injury carefully and gently, then looked at Sally. "Gonna have t'dig it out," he said bluntly. "Slim, you'll need to do a deal of holdin' down, 'cause it's gone in deep and we ain't got nothing' bar whisky to keep him under."

He picked up the medicinal whiskey bottle and ordered "Lift him!" When Slim did so, he carefully encouraged the wounded man to gulp down the fiery liquid, as much as he could manage. "Sure wish we had some ether or chloroform!" Jonesy muttered to himself.

Dan started and the lamp in his hand shook. "Can you do without this for a moment?" he asked urgently.

When Jonesy nodded, he deposited the lamp on the mantelpiece and made for the door. Seconds later he was back in the room, a bulky parcel wrapped securely in brown paper in his hands. Dan looked at his daughter and said softly, "Guess you'd better have your present now, girl."

He handed over the parcel and they watched, hardly daring to hope, as Sally unwrapped it. Inside was a well-equipped medical case with several bottles, one of which contained the much-needed anaesthetic. Jonesy heaved a sigh of relief. "Now we can manage without pinning him down. Slim, can you hold the lamp? We'll just have one – cuts down on the shadows if it's right overhead. Can you put the rest out, Dan, an' keep us supplied with fresh hot water 'n linen? We're gonna need plenty." He looked across the table at the young woman. Her face was serious, intent, undeterred by the difficult work that lay ahead of them.

"Ready?" The two figures, old and young, bent to their task. For the four adults, everything closed down to that tight circle of bright lamplight.

# # # AS # # #

Left on his own, Andy stood thoughtfully on the porch, gazing at the wagons and working out what to do next. No-one was deliberately ignoring him, for he knew that this was one of those situations in which the wisdom and experience of adults was more use than his own willingness. He'd helped Jonesy when there was no-one else to do so but he knew that the young man was safe in more skilled hands than his. So – what to do next?

Obviously the child first. Andy's brow furrowed. At the moment the little boy was still curled tightly in a sleeping bundle under Andy's coat. There was no place for him in the house with an operation going on. It would have to be the stable.

Andy climbed into the wagon and urged the team across the yard, pulling up as near the barn doors as he could. Once inside, he found the lanterns had all been filled ready – Jonesy had obviously prepared for them to be back after dusk. Andy lit the biggest lantern and hooked it up on the main beam. A quick reconnaissance showed him that there was an empty stall, well prepare with a deep bed of straw. Andy hastened to spread out over this a thick layer of hay, which would be softer and gentler as a bed. Glancing round he saw that Slim had left his bedroll with Alamo's saddle instead of taking it into the house. Andy quickly appropriated it to make the stall more comfortable. Then he went back to the wagon and eased the little boy over to the tail-gate. The youngster, with the complete trust and security of the very young, did not even stir. Andy picked him up, carried him into the barn and settled him cosily in the hay, with the bedroll blankets tucked round him.

Next he knew he had to deal with the little donkey. This seemed at first an insurmountable problem, as he was not strong enough on his own to lift the animal, even though she was so small and frail. After some thought, he remembered that the barn had a hoist for getting sacks and bales up into the loft. He manoeuvred the wagon so that the hoist rope was at the back, fastened another blanket round the donkey to form a sling and then hitched it securely to the hook. Fortunately the hoist was operated by a winch-handle and he was able, without too much effort, to lower his charge carefully to the ground. After a few initially staggering steps, the little beast followed him obediently inside the barn. He settled her in the hay next to the child, figuring that the little boy would be reassured to see something familiar if he woke. Finally he ran both wagons into the shelter between the barn and the bunk-house, made sure that the tarpaulin covers were firmly tied down – no sense in letting their Christmas supplies get soaked with snowfall - and unhitched both teams and made them comfortable in vacant stalls.

Standing in the middle of the yard, he looked all around and was satisfied. He'd made everything as secure as he could, cared for the tired horses and secured his two charges in safety. Now what he really needed was something to eat and drink, but, looking at the shadows moving against the single brightly lit window of the house, it was obviously no time to go rooting for supplies in the kitchen. He guessed he might have a long wait ahead of him.

# # # SS # # #

Slim felt as if he was doing nothing but wait too and that he had the easiest and least demanding task in holding the lamp. It was not pride that made him feel like this, but his own sense of responsibility for other people. He seemed to be contributing so little, just holding something up. It was some time before he discovered how wrong he was. Meanwhile, he was worrying. He wasn't too worried about Andy because he was certain that he could trust him to do his best in the circumstances. He was pretty worried about the Travers and what Martha would imagine when Dan and Sally failed to arrive home. He was horribly worried about the fate of the young man being operated on right under his nose. And most of all he was worried about Jess and Smudge and what had happened to that wagon.

# # JH # CP # #

The wagon lurched violently and ground to a halt. Jess hitched a breath of relief. Even his strength had been finding it hard to protect Lucy from the rough pitches and jolts. But a halt meant more delay and he had a feeling that time was rapidly running out.

Smudge stuck his head through the flap in the canvas and ordered: "C'm up here, Jess!"

Jess shifted Lucy gently into Chantal's arms and slid through onto the front seat. He looked where Smudge was pointing. They were southern end of the trail, where it began to slope downhill to join the main route. There had been heavy rain for several days before it had turned to snow. The trail ahead was littered with lumps of stone and gravel washed down by flooded streams; there were deep gouges and channels criss-crossing it where the water had carried the surface soil away.

"Can you get the wagon through?" Jess asked, fearing the worst.

"I cain, but's gonna shake like a house in a hurricane!" Smudge pointed out. "Ain't gonna do the lady no good!"

"No. It's gonna be tricky." Jess was again running through the options available to them. To compound their problems it was settling down to snow heavily and the winter dusk was already deepening. The last part of the trail ran through thick forest and it was going to be almost completely dark under the trees. Staying where they were and waiting for the baby to arrive would be extremely risky given the total lack of any shelter and the deteriorating weather, while continuing with Lucy in the wagon could just have an even worse result.

"I'll take her up on Trav," he decided. "He's sure-footed and it'll be a hell of a lot smoother than the wagon. Can you get it through if we do that?"

"Surely – always supposin' it don't fall apart," the old man assured him.

"Let's do it then. I'll move Trav up close to the wagon and you lift her." They both squeezed back inside and Jess explained what they were planning. "Let's get you wrapped up warm, ma'am, then Smudge'll lift you out."

Lucy gathered her courage together and managed to smile. "It's Lucy, if I'm allowed to call you Jess?"

"You certainly may, ma'am." Jess smiled warmly too. He moved to the back of the wagon and jumped down between the two horses. "You behave y' self, Falcon!" he told the grey, who was pushing him with friendly enthusiasm as he unsaddled Traveller: the saddle horn was not going to contribute anything to Lucy's comfort.

Jess vaulted onto the bay and Smudge lifted Lucy carefully into his arms. As the horse moved away round the wagon, Chantal heard Jess growl comfortingly, "Y're quite safe. Traveller's as steady as a rock, climbs like a goat and he's wiser on the trail than any human."

Smudge hastily made his way back to the front of the wagon and Chantal followed him. Horse, rider and their burden swung round the wagon and on to the trail ahead. The snow was coming down thicker than ever and they could only just see Jess a length or so in front of them.

"Even Traveller can't see in this!" Chantal exclaimed. "There's a lantern inside. Do you think it would help to light the trail for them?"

"Yeah, good idea!" Smudge nodded approvingly. "Sure needs 'n angel o' light t' guide that little 'un into this hard old world." It was a saying that was to come back to her years later, though in less harassing circumstances.

She plunged back into the wagon and emerged quickly with a storm lantern in her hand. "Jess!"

"What?" He halted his mount and peered over his shoulder.

"Wait! You need some light!" Chantal had lit the lantern and was busy pushing her loose hair inside her coat. Then she jumped down, picked up the lantern and waded through the settling snow to his side. It was difficult enough walking, given the deepening snow and the bad footing, but the lantern did enable her to pick out the easiest way for Traveller. Her white-clad figure and blonde hair blended almost to invisibility with the snow, but Jess followed the bright light glimmering against the blackness of the forest and the sky as if he were following an earth-bound star.

# # # AS # # #

The heavy fall of snow had left a deep carpet over the earth and the skies had begun to clear. Standing in the middle of the yard, Andy took one last, long look at the glittering stars that were being revealed as the clouds swept away on the wind. He wondered what that special star had looked like and how great it must have been to stand out among so many thousands. Almost right above the ranch he could see the brightest star, that Jess had named the Mother star. It warmed him to think they were not totally alone, whatever problems and dangers might beset them. But it also reminded him that he had an immediate duty of care, to one little boy and one pregnant donkey. He looked down the Laramie road, hoping that the starlight was lighting Jess and Smudge and the woman and the wagon safely on their way home. But instead he heard the staggering, snorting progress of a foundered horse. Andy held his breath in horror, hoping against hope that it was not Traveller. But the horse which came into view was another that he recognized, a big, black teamster, decked in broken wagon harness. Andy sighed, fetched some oats to catch it and settled this journeyer into the barn too. Then he gave one last look at the starlit road and pulled the door shut. It was only common sense to keep them all, boys, horses and donkeys, as warm as possible.

# # # SS # # #

Jonesy had been heard to opine on more than one occasion that Slim had Jess's share of common sense as well as his own. It stood him in good stead now, when he was forced to leave the real action to others and it kept him calm and focused on his immediate task. There was nothing he could do to help Andy, or Martha, while Sally and Dan were needed at the relay station, or Jess and Smudge, whatever they had encountered. What he could do was to keep the lamp absolutely steady and so light the operation clearly. He looked down at the strong young man below him, seeing the tell-tale marks of a hard, impoverished life: the flesh too thin on the big bones, the corded muscles tight from hard labour, the lines of weariness scoring what must be an otherwise cheerful countenance. If ever anyone needed the gift of gold it was this man and his family and Slim was determined to do something to make that happen. But the operation going on right now had to succeed first. His arms were already beginning to ache from the weight of the lamp and holding it still was no longer an easy task. But the pool of golden lamplight was also his gift. He watched as it gilded young hands and old, the shining blades of the surgical instruments and the burnished brown of Sally's hair.

# JH # CP # AS #

Chantal turned and the wind caught her hair, whipping long stands of it free from her coat, like skeins of drifting snow. She was grinning triumphantly and, at long last, standing on relatively smooth ground. The trail had stopped going down and walker, rider and wagon had safely reached the welcome and familiar Laramie to Cheyenne road. With all the perversity of nature, the snow immediately stopped and a rising wind began to tear and tumble the scattering clouds. The temperature was dropping rapidly once more as the skies cleared and stars began to pierce the darkness. After the briefest of pauses to return Lucy to the wagon, they hastened on at a good pace. The big draught horses made nothing of the light wagon on this comparatively good surface and at times Smudge was actually having to hold them back to provide the smoothest ride. Inside, Jess pulled his watch out of an inner pocket and gave it to Chantal to hold. He glanced at the face from time to time and began to look increasingly concerned.

Before time ran out, however, they suddenly caught sight of the single lighted window of the ranch house, blazing in its own right like another great star. The ramshackle wagon finally rumbled and shook its way into the yard and Smudge pulled up his team with a sigh of thanks. As far as he could make out, no babies had been born on the road and now they were safely home and within reach of Jonesy's expertise, even if that was not exactly what was needed. He climbed slowly and wearily from the seat at the same time as Jess jumped down from the back.

"There's somethin' up!" Jess said immediately, his sharp eyes picking up a number of things, small and large, that were out of place in the yard, not least that single, lighted window. Abruptly the kitchen door opened and Dan Travers came quickly over to them.

"You got her?"

"Yeah. Don't tell me – you found him?" Jess guessed wildly but was rewarded by being right. "And the kid?"

"Yeah. He's in the barn with Andy, I think. Got a real nasty job of surgery inside. Takin' up y' dinin' table and everythin' else too. Look, I've gotta get back in case they need anythin'. Can you cope?" Dan was gone before he had the answer.

"We'll have to!" Jess told the empty air. It was obviously no good hoping that Sally or Jonesy would be able help with the immanent birth and riding for the nearest expert, Martha Travers, would take time they didn't have. Improvisation seemed to be the only option. The house was out of the question - it would not do husband and wife any good to be within earshot of each other in such extremity. On the other hand, it was freezing fast and some source of shelter and warmth would be essential. After a moment's thought, he put his head into the back of the wagon. "Your man's here, Lucy – they're lookin' after him inside. And your boy's safe too! Now hold on. We're gonna move just once more. Only a few feet, into shelter." He was gone before he could witness the hugs of joy that Lucy and Chantal gave each other. The news was a gift beyond price.

Jess moved swiftly to open the doors of the forge, then loosed the saddle horses as Smudge led his team and their load towards the shelter. It was not possible to drive the wagon in as there was no way the big horses could turn round in the confined space. Jess and Smudge hastily unharnessed them and Andy arrived at the opportune moment to move them out of the way. The young man and the old picked up a shaft each.

"Y' ready for this" Jess asked.

"Told y'!" Smudge growled. "Kin pull that timber-wagon up the incline without no team – an' when I cain't do that, I'm surely gonna retire!"

"Just don't retire right now!" Jess pleaded as they bent their backs and pulled towards the shelter of the forge.

Andy had been taken by surprise at the flurry of activity in the yard as the wagon rolled in. He ran to the door and saw that Smudge was already unhitching the big draught horses. Andy immediately took them to the back of the barn, where there was space for them to be tethered. Another two horses were standing patiently in the yard and Andy, well trained in caring for working stock, went to see to them next. One was Traveller, who gave a soft snort and rubbed his head hard against Andy's chest in friendly recognition. The other, a beautiful dapple-grey, looked familiar, but Andy was sure it was not a local horse.

As he picked up their reins, Jess came out from the forge. He looked unusually worried and just said absently, "Thanks, Tiger!" when he saw what Andy was doing. Andy led the pair away as well. The grey, however, refused to go any further than Traveller's stall, even when bribed with a handful of oats. It simply dug in its hooves and refused to budge. Andy sighed. Traveller's stall was a big one and the other horse was quite small. He put them both in together, removed their harness, made up a couple of buckets of feed and saw to it that they had water to drink before they settled down to eat. Andy watched the oats disappearing with envy. Humans weren't going to be so lucky tonight.

While he had been thus occupied, Jess and Smudge had been busy too. They had methodically cleared all the movable goods out of the wagon and stacked them neatly against the wall of the forge. A bale of hay had been hoisted into the back of the wagon and Jess was busy spreading out to form a deep, soft bed. Smudge, meanwhile, realizing Jess's intentions, was already working at getting the forge going. Fortunately Slim had built a chimney for it, so there would be little smoke but plenty of heat inside.

Jess got Chantal to roll up the bedding so that she could hand it out to him "No sense in spoilin' theirs," he told her softly. "We've got plenty spare." He stuck his head round the barn door and called, "Andy? Can you fetch me some sheets an' blankets an' any spare pillows an' towels y' can find, please? Get into the bunk-room through the window, if y' have to, and take ours. Smudge'll give you a hand. And we'll need hot water. Should be plenty if Jonesy's got someone on the table, operatin'. Y' can put a big bucket on the forge - and find a couple of clean bowls, will y'?"

Having dispatched his helpers, he filled a canteen with fresh water and went back to the wagon, but before he could do or say anything, he found himself faced with a horrified and angry Chantal, as she leapt down from the back.

"You can't do this! You can't seriously expect her to give birth under these conditions? It's outrageous!"

Jess looked completely imperturbable. "It's normal out here. Half the population of the western states was born in the back of a wagon!" he told her firmly. Seeing her skeptical expression, he went on, "I was m'self, as it happens."

Chantal looked him up and down thoroughly, then said, "That is not necessarily a recommendation."

Jess ignored this. "Think seasonal – you gotta perfectly good example of a baby bein' born in a stable!"

"A stable is not a forge!" Chantal snapped. "And we don't have miraculous help either."

"You kiddin' me there were no midwives in Bethlehem?" Jess enquired curiously.

"Jess, I am not going to stand here arguing about the gospel with you! And there aren't any midwives here!"

"I thought women were naturally good at this kind of thing?" It sounded distinctly as if he were teasing her. "Didn't they teach you nothin' at that fancy school?"

"Certainly not midwifery! Sally'd know much more than me."

"Sally's bein' a surgeon. And like I said, you'll do. Anyway, it's a natural process. Ain't usually many problems, once things get goin'."

"Usually?" Chantal's voice rose almost to a squeak of disbelief. "Jess Harper, how many babies have you actually delivered?"

"Plenty," Jess replied calmly.

Chantal was dumbfounded for a moment. Recovering her breath and her wits, she decided he must be teasing her again. "Really?" Her eyebrows met in a fierce frown as she tried to work out why he would be joking at a time like this.

"Would I lie to you?"

Chantal looked him up and down again. He looked perfectly serious. "Not without a very good reason," she conceded, "and never just to comfort me or make me feel better."

"Never!" The word had all the force of a vow. "Te prometo que nunca voy a hacer eso!"

"Te creo!" Chantal was still watching him closely. "But - really plenty?"

One corner of Jess's lips quirked a little in that crooked grin of his as he admitted ruefully: "Yeah! The only trouble is – most of them had four legs!"

"Why you - !" Chantal flew at him and Jess hastily caught her arm and the blow she was aiming at him. The violent struggle ended the way struggles between them usually did, with Chantal fuming and Jess in control.

"Calm down!" he ordered. "It ain't that different. We'll manage."

"We!" Chantal was not swayed by this assumption of partnership. "I've a good mind to leave you to cope on your own!"

"Lucy needs y'," he said, suddenly and fiercely serious again. But he added reassuringly, "An' don't forget she knows more about it than either of us. We'll do fine, Tal."

Before she could so much as blink she found herself enveloped in a bear-hug and, almost in the same movement, lifted easily into the back of the wagon. He handed her his watch again and the canteen he was carrying, then said briskly, "Time the pains. Y' need to call me when they're every few minutes an' I'll talk you through it." He made for the door into the barn. Hampered as she was with the watch and canteen in one hand, Chantal still picked up the nearest available object with the other and threw it at him. He was lucky it was a pillow, not a pitchfork, as her aim was excellent!

# # # SS # # #

Despite the relief of the excellent news about the arrival of the wagon, there was no other respite for those around the operating table. Sally, despite her relative inexperience, and Jonesy, given his age, showed unflagging strength and stamina. Slim was finding it harder and harder to maintain his stillness and prevent the lamp from wavering. The muscles of his forearms ached and throbbed and he had to devise a way of using one hand, then the other without allowing the lamp to shake as he changed over. The anaesthetic, welcome though it was to the surgeons, did not help either. The young man was strong and needed a heavy dose. The combined smell of sweat, blood and ether, though it rose up like incense, was far from divine. _It was better suited to that gift of the third wise man, a symbol of impending death_ , Slim thought with a mental shudder which he did not allow to become physical. But they had missed the last verse because Jess had travelled to the rescue on the mountain road, so maybe that was a better omen. And if the divine was to be born on earth, it was to share not only the sweat and blood and pain, but the healing and the hope and all the simple things that filled daily life. Slim made himself recall the sweet scent of hay that would surround Andy and the little boy. He could smell wood smoke from the fire too and remembered the Travers' gift of the friendship log. And somewhere in the background was the homely aroma of new baked bread, the bread that Jess, against all habit, had got up extra early that morning to make before they set off on the journey that had led to this moment.

# # # AS # # #

Andy was indeed surrounded by hay, since he was kneeling in the stall, with the still deeply slumbering child tucked in the corner and the little donkey stretched out before him. He was watching her closely and was more or less oblivious to everything going on around him, concentrating entirely on the signs of restlessness and some distress that the little beast was showing. He'd seen enough animals born to know that it could not be long now. Whatever else was going on, this was his job.

Jess appeared briefly and hung his jacket on the end of Traveller's stall, giving both horses an quick caress before he crouched down beside Andy and said, "How's our Christmas present doin'?" Andy looked up, sensing something in his voice which sounded remarkably like nervousness. This was odd in the middle of a stable in the middle of winter and almost in the middle of the night, because practically the only time Jess got nervous was when someone expected him to be polite to rigidly respectable ladies. Despite being perfectly able to employ impeccable manners, it always seemed to set him on edge. _Right now he looked both weary and worried_ , Andy thought, but his own preoccupation made him push this problem aside. One thing at a time. And the thing right now was a safe birth.

"Not long," he said and Jess nodded in agreement. Then he said softly, "She's in good hands, you know what y' doin'!" He clapped Andy on the shoulder and got to his feet. As he went back through the forge door, Andy thought he heard, "Sure wish I did!" and wished himself that Jess had stayed beside him, because he was so good at calming frightened animals. As if in answer to his need, he clearly heard Jess say: "Just trust me. You'll do fine!" Andy had no idea who he was talking to, but took the words to heart. After all, he had helped both Jess and Slim with numerous foals born in this very stable. Immediately after this, he heard the familiar growling rumble of Jess's comforting tones, the same wordless, soothing murmur that he used to quiet restless horses. Andy, reassured and encouraged, drew in a deep breath and focused on his charge once more.

The little donkey lifted her head and her huge eyes strained round and met Andy's. She turned her head towards her flank and he saw the ripple of a strong contraction shiver through the muscles under the velvet skin. She snorted and her rate of breathing increased appreciably. Andy longed to stroke her, but he knew that the little animal needed all her strength and that he should not distract her from her task.

"Come on, little one – you can do it!" She wouldn't understand the words, but Andy's natural empathy for all living things gave much more than verbal encouragement. He watched intently as the power of the working muscles increased and intensified, driving rapidly towards the moment of birth. The little creature was panting, her flanks heaving and her eyes widely dilated as she struggled to bring all her energy to bear on delivering her foal.

The contractions continued for several minutes, then, not unexpectedly, there came a lull, almost as if nature itself was gathering and preparing to unleash primordial forces. Andy sat back on his heels and reviewed the situation. The pause was a natural one, almost like the lull in the eye of a hurricane. His eyes met the big, dark ones and he sensed her trust in him, her reliance on his help. Nothing much else seemed to matter right now, although he was aware of considerable background activity and attendant noise from the forge.

Smudge appeared unexpectedly, just as Jess had done. He looked down into the stall and said: "Well done, young 'un, stick with it!" and then, "Need more fuel for that forge."

"The fuel shed is opposite the back door," Andy told him absently. It was comforting to know that there was another adult around, but Andy was completely immersed in his care and responsibility. If he had been alone, he would still have given everything he had to bring this new life into the world.

The contractions began again, stronger than ever, so that he felt that helpless fear of something that he loved being torn apart and having no means to stop it. He knew it was a natural process, but it was always shocking and overwhelming in its inescapability. He could just see the glistening, black jet tips of two little hooves beginning to emerge from the birth canal. Then there was another pause. He frowned, knowing that if the process did not continue soon, the foal would be damaged by constriction and lack of air.

"Come on, girl – you can do it!" He laid a gentle hand on the donkey's flank and as if in response to his concern the muscles heaved again. Andy was not sure why the birth had slowed, but he knew that he had to do something to help it now. He gently freed the minute hooves from the mother and, as he felt the next surge, pulled very gently. The legs emerged further. He wasn't sure how long the legs of a donkey foal were in proportion to its body and this struck him momentarily as comic.

"Come on, girl, we gotta get this little one birthed!"

As if in agreement, the mother gave a convulsive heave and Andy pulled at the same time. The foal's head emerged and then, suddenly, the whole body slid rapidly and smoothly into the world. The tiny creature tumbled and rolled on the hay with the force of the expulsion. Andy put out a steadying hand and then hastily used his bandanna to clear the mouth and the nostrils of the minute wedge-shaped head. There was an explosive sneeze and the welcome sound of the new-born filling its lungs with air. Andy gulped too and heaved a huge sigh of relief. His eyes were blurred and it was several minutes before he came to himself and the necessity of getting the foal to feed. He picked up handful of hay and gently wiped down the sticky body. The foal was lying stretched out, like its mother, but both of them needed to get up and about the business of feeding before much longer.

"Come on, little one!" He was not sure if he was talking to mother or baby, but his whole being was bent on encouraging them. There was a heave and the little donkey was on her feet, shaking, but indomitable. Andy put his hands round the tiny body of her foal and lifted it gently. The little legs flailed and made contact with the earth for the first time. The baby stood wobbling and seeking instinctively the nourishment it needed. Andy heaved another sigh of relief.

It was only then that he became aware of the other sounds that had been demanding his attention. Human sounds. The articulation of all the power and helplessness that the animals had been unable to express. And he heard, too, that most amazing and humbling sound – the first cry of a new-born child.

Time seemed to stop still at this. The donkey foal was suckling eagerly and contentedly. There was peace and quiet in the forge. Presently Jess came through the open door, wiping his face on the sleeve of his shirt. He looked utterly exhausted. Smudge emerged from the shadows too and they clasped hands, both of them grinning from ear to ear.

"Told y' she'd do!" Jess reminded him. "Even do as she's told, occasionally!"

"Guess that's a first then, ain't it?" Smudge was not above pulling his leg. "Is it a –"

Suddenly there was a sharp cry of "Jess!" in two female voices at once and one added for good measure: "Tout de suite! Vite! Plus vite!"

Accustomed as he was to Jess's lightning reflexes, Andy had never seen him react faster. He disappeared into the forge instantly and there was a further flurry of activity. Andy and Smudge looked at each other and held their breath. After what seemed an interminable interval, there was the sound of another cry, another new-born making its presence known in the world. They heard female exclamations of surprise, a couple of sobs and a half-gasp of laughter from Jess: "Which would you prefer, Lucy – a boy or a girl?" Before she could reply, he continued: " 'Cos it looks like you and your man got both!"

# # # SS # # #

The ragged splinters of broken wood had finally all been withdrawn safely from the young man's wound. Sally was stitching it up carefully and neatly, under the wise and watchful eyes of her fellow surgeon. When he was sure that all was going well, Jonesy joined Dan in the kitchen and began rummaging in his store of herbal remedies. Left alone for a moment with Sally, Slim watched her slender fingers as they gently and skillfully repaired the damage the shattered spar had done. Her strength and endurance in such gruelling circumstances could only command respect. _But_ w _hat must it have been like_ , he wondered, _in a world dependent for pain-killing and disinfectant on substances like myrrh - rare and probably mighty expensive, something so precious that important scholars would bring it as a gift? People then must have been like Jonesy, wise in the ways of healing through natural herbs and plants_.

As if on cue to this thought, Jonesy returned, muttering darkly: "Can't work out when we used it all!"

"Used what?" Slim asked without moving to look at him.

"That comfrey oil, y' know the stuff Jess and Andy made when they rescued that mad French girl 'n her little sister."

"It surely won't be any good after so many months?"

"Made a whole lot more, from those plants Jess gave me," Jonesy told him. "Sure is sovereign for healin' the skin."

Sally straightened up and laid aside the needle as she nodded in agreement. From the kitchen, Dan spoke out of the steam of much boiling water, with great conviction: "I'm sure you got somethin' else to hand, Jonesy."

"Nothin' as good," the old man insisted stubbornly, "an' this young fella needs the best."

"He's has the best," Slim said firmly, "he has both of you!"

"We couldn't have seen what we were doing without you," Sally told him softly, "but you can put the lamp down now."

"Don't think I can," Slim said ruefully. "My arms are just going to be stuck in the air all Christmas!"

"Fine," Andy's voice joined in cheekily from the kitchen doorway, "we'll hang the decorations on you as well as the tree! That way you can still join in the special celebrations."

"You wait! I'll get you for that!" His older brother relinquished the lamp into Dan's care and flexed both arms cautiously. "Tomorrow!" he added threateningly. Then, "And what have you got to celebrate so specially, anyway?"

"Three new-borns!" Andy told them triumphantly.

# # JH # CP ##

Andy came panting back across the yard. Behind him soft lamplight was filling the blank windows of the house as if it was reviving after a long journey through darkness. "They're finishing up. Slim says we can bring them all into the house in a few minutes. Jonesy's hopping mad, though!"

"Takes a lot to rile a wise man," Smudge observed sagely. "What's gotten into me ol' friend now?"

"He can't find any of that comfrey mixture," Andy explained. "You know, Jess, the stuff he's developed from what we made last …"

His voice trailed off. Jess and Chantal were looking at each other and it was not hard to guess that they were recalling the redecoration of the kitchen with the said mixture, not to mention the consequences that had followed. Jess raised one eyebrow and his eyes sparkled with amusement as he walked over to where his jacket was hanging on the end of Traveller's stall. He fished in a pocket and came back with the little parcel, which he handed to Chantal.

"D'you mind openin' this a few days early?"

She held it tight for a moment, then shook her head and began to rip off the wrapping. Inside was a small silver flask. Chantal turned it over and looked at something inscribed on one side. Then she looked at Jess. Much the same kind of look as he had had when he picked up the pearl button. She drew a deep breath and said calmly, "Run in and give this to Jonesy, Andy. I think it's what he needs."

It took less than no time for Andy to scoot across the yard and deliver the required gift into Jonesy's hands. When he uncapped the flask, Jonesy's face lit up with relief. Then, when he heard where it had come from, he immediately changed to a ferocious scowl as he threatened, "Just wait till I get my hands on that young man for raidin' my stores!"

Andy was not waiting for anything. He dashed back across the yard to find the adults still gathered round the stall. They all were standing, gazing down at the little donkey and her foal and the sleeping child. Andy felt a glow of achievement as he realised that he was personally responsible for the peaceful scene at which they were looking.

"It seems a pity to disturb him," Chantal observed as she looked at the small figure snuggled into the bed of hay.

"Yeah," Andy was fired up with the sight of the child in the stable, "maybe the three of us should just bring gifts like the story says."

"Gold 'n incense 'n myrrh." Even Smudge, old reprobate that he was, was moved by the innocence and trust of the sleeping child.

"That's fine for you men," Chantal observed tartly, "but what did the women bring?"

Jess put his arm, almost absent-mindedly, around her shoulders and bend to rub his cheek on the soft, bright hair. "Courage," he murmured, "an' strength an' comfort."

A stillness fell over them all.

"That's three qualities," Chantal replied softly after a pause. "There's only Sally and me."

"Yeah, I was thinkin' of another woman as well – a real angel!"

"What!" She swung round and the braid, into which she had practically plaited her hair as a midwife, swung violently towards him. Jess's reflexes were sharp as ever. He caught the lashing hair in one hand and restrained her flying fist with the other.

"An' you can add a cracking straight left to those gifts!" he chuckled. "Only not now. We're both too tired to fight! Let's get this little family into the house where they belong."

# # SS # AS # JH # CP # #

Looking out of the ranch house window, Slim saw the procession crossing the yard. Jess was in the lead, carrying the woman. Behind him, utterly unexpectedly, came a girl who looked somehow familiar, and Smudge, each carrying a small wrapped bundle with infinite care. Bringing up the rear was Andy, manfully struggling along with young Nathan in his arms. Slim looked at Sally and realisation of what had been happening outside dawned on them with a special radiance. Slim expressed both their reactions as he murmured with a delighted smile: "Bearing gifts. The very best kind of gifts!"

Sally ran out of the house, across the yard, and put her arms around Chantal and the baby she was carrying. "Chantal, you made it!"

"Only just!" Chantal admitted, "And I wasn't expecting someone to involve me in this kind of celebration!"

Jess heard this and snapped over his shoulder, "That'll teach you not to go ridin' round in snowstorms then!"

Chantal and Sally exchanged eloquent glances. Slim was momentarily baffled that the two young women were obviously well acquainted, until he remembered that Sally's training had been taking place in the big east coast hospitals. He hastened to push the front door wide open and Jess carried the woman in, saying as he did so: "Lucy wants to see Russ."

"He's still unconscious," Sally warned, but she led them into the small bedroom and Jess set Lucy down gently on the bed next to her husband. "Two minutes!" he told her firmly. "You need rest and the kids need you!"

It was a little more than two minutes after they had left her alone that she came, of her own volition, into the big bunk-room, where there was space for Sally and Chantal to be on hand to help her and her children if they needed it. Fortunately Andy had not had to commandeer all the bedding as Jess had suggested. Jonesy, of course, had taken over the small guest bedroom so that he similarly could look after Russ, during the night. It looked as though the rest of them would be spending the night in the bunk-house.

When offered this accommodation, however, Dan shook his head. "Keep Sally with you for now, you'll need her help. Just lend me a horse and I'll get home and put Martha out of her misery. We can shift the wagon tomorrow." Slim and Jess went out to see him off and it was not long after that the sound of hooves could be heard fading into the distance.

Having settled her charges comfortably and leaving Lucy to rest and the children to sleep, Sally re-joined the others in the living room and found everyone had collapsed on the disarranged furniture, except Chantal, who kneeling with hands outstretched to the fire and Jess, who was slumped against the mantelpiece. Sally looked at their weary but triumphant faces. "Well done," she said. "You did it."

Jess groaned and then laughed: "That's my first set of twins! Hell, I need a cigarette!"

"Yours?" Chantal challenged him, grinning. "And just what exactly did you have to do with it?"

"Quite as much as you," Jess asserted, looking at the nail -marks on his hands. Then he added in tones of real gratitude, "An' we'd both better thank Smudge for keepin' the forge an' that hot water goin' surrounded by snow."

"Ain't quite what y' brung me along for, boy," Smudge pointed out. "Thought you wuz rescuin' me from a night in the stable, weren't y'?"

"Yeah, sorry about that! Next time, make sure y' get to the armchair by the fire first!"

"But what in the world made you bring Chantal along too, Jess?" Andy asked curiously. He was delighted to see her, but it was a complete mystery that she was there at all.

"Apart from the fact that she's got two legs and beautiful eyes?" Jess grinned. He looked round the disorganized room and its dishevelled inhabitants: "We could do with somethin' decorative around here."

"Decorative! I like that!" Chantal exploded in indignant rejection of the compliment. "Je suis vraiment utile! You'd have been in hopeless mess without me!"

"Maybe." Jess didn't bother arguing for once. "As it is, we're both messy." He went into the kitchen, scooped up a couple of the remaining few towels and grabbed some miscellaneous garments from the clean laundry pile. Returning, he pulled Chantal to her feet and shoved her unceremoniously towards the door. "C'm on. Time we cleaned up some."

"That shower's going to be freezing!" she objected, but Jess was already steering her out of the back door and across the yard.

"There's enough hot water in this place to float a paddle-steamer," they heard him remind her. "I put a couple of buckets in the forge just now, so get a move on before everythin' gets cold!"

After this somewhat abrupt departure, the room settled back into calm again. Slim looked at the back door and, recalling his own brief and turbulent encounter with Chantal Picard, muttered in puzzled tones, "How does he manage to do that?"

"Make her do what he wants?" Sally was grinning broadly and suggested: "Scarily fast reflexes?"

Jonesy was polishing the bottle which had provided the healing remedy that he had needed. He placed it carefully on the stove so that the gentle heat would dry and steralise it. Slim wandered over curiously and read the inscription engraved on the side of the bottle:

PT

C

Pour les dangers

que nous allons partager

J

MG

There was only word Slim was certain of. "What danger?" he asked the world at random. Jonesy looked at him, the wisdom of much experience rising to the rescue. "Wait an' see?" he suggested. "If there's anythin' we need to know, I guess they'll tell us quick enough!"

The clearing up continued in weary but contented silence. Presently the back door opened and Chantal came quietly in. She looked slightly damp, but her hair as usual formed a cloudy cloak. She was dressed in a rolled up pair of Andy's jeans, one of the less battered of Jess's shirts and her own sheepskin coat. Once again, she was reflecting ruefully, Jess had managed to have a detrimental effect on whatever she was wearing. But her eyes alighted on the little flask, standing on the stove, and her lips curled in a pleased smile.

"You finished with this, Jonesy?"

"Yeah. Sovereign stuff, but I guess we'll have to be brewin' some more now," the old man smiled.

Chantal pocketed the flask and said, "He's demanding coffee."

"Tell us something new!" Slim picked up the pot all the same and poured out two generous mugs.

"That he thinks he's entitled to some whiskey in it?" Chantal was maintaining an entirely serious demeanour.

"An' you're fetchin' it for him?" Jonesy was slightly incredulous.

Chantal's expression broke into a wicked grin. "He says he can't come in because he's smoking. So maybe I'll pour it right over him, which is what he deserves! But then again, why waste good whiskey?"

Jonesy had already produced the required medicine and poured a generous dollop into one of the mugs. Chantal waved the other meaningfully at him in an unspoken demand.

"You certain, young lady?" Jonesy was trying to look stern.

"Anything Jess can take, I can take!" Chantal told him firmly. She took the mugs in one hand and scooped up one of the smaller loaves of bread from the stove-top with the other. Without more ado, she disappeared again into the yard.

After this Andy was at last able to point out to the adults that, whatever they felt, he was starving. Everyone looked slightly disconcerted. Although eating seemed a good idea, none of them really wanted to sit down at what had been, so recently, an operating table. The kitchen was also awash with boiling water and not much else.

It was Chantal, however, who had taught Andy, in what seemed like a long ago summer, how to cook an omelette over an open fire. His suggestion that he might do so was greeted with relieved enthusiasm by all concerned. Sally insisted that they bring in and use the 'friendship log', because it would burn clean and hot: "And we can bring you another for Yule." Andy found the eggs and equipment and set to work. "Ain't gonna take long," he informed them. "Better let Jess know or he'll be madder'n anything to miss a meal!"

"It isn't going to –" Slim corrected automatically, as he made his way to the door.

Sally followed him into the yard, nothing loathe to take a breath of fresh air after the intense atmosphere of the operation. Two figures were leaning against the corral fence and a thin spiral of smoke was drifting up against the dark sky over the horizon. A couple of mugs were balanced on the fence poles and they were sharing the remains of the loaf of bread.

"No-one would think it was thick snow out here!" Slim exclaimed, always sensible and practical.

"I don't think they've noticed." It could not be said that Sally's tone was envious, but it definitely implied a certain density in Slim's observation. As they approached, however, they found a philosophical and mathematical discussion going on.

"I can't see how you can claim a hand is a hundred stars," Chantal was objecting.

"Count ten and cover them with your thumb." She did so and Jess went on, "Now put your thumb on your palm and count how many times it'll fit."

"Ten," she conceded.

"So ten times ten is a hundred – even I can do that sum."

"Yes," she breathed.

"So you really can count in hundreds," he asserted.

"Si, senior realmente mucho!" Chantal laughed. She held up her hand, about to count, but Jess reached out and took it, turning her palm upwards. He ran a gentle finger down the thin, white scar across her palm. Chantal kept quite still, the memory of pain and violence flashing across her mind like summer lightning which was quickly absorbed by the vast peacefulness of the winter night. Jess kept utterly still too.

Then Chantal gently withdrew her hand and began to count. Jess did the same and soon they had reached a thousand each.

"That's a lot more," Jess said softly.

"A lot more?"

"Yeah, a lot more years than all of our history since the first Christmas."

"Yes. I wonder if they are the same stars, the ordinary ones, that looked down that night?"

"I don't know. But it'd be good to think so."

Slim and Sally looked up too. The stars were as crisp and bright-edged as jewels and the silence of the snow-blanketed landscape seemed to hold them all, humans and animals, new-born and mature, in the hollow of a mighty hand.

The intense cold was making their breath denser than the smoke from the cigarette that Jess had just extinguished carefully. Chantal shivered, but, in what seemed a moment of irrationality, began to unbutton her thick, warm coat. As she did so, she fished in one of the pockets.

"Will you take this back?" She held the little flask out to Jess. For an instant, she saw flash into his eyes disappointment and – could it be? – hurt, but then his expression shut down into his best poker face. "And give it me again?" she hastened to add, "I've nowhere to put it right now because I thought I might leave this coat in the wagon – a present for Lucy when they move on."

He nodded slowly and his hand went to something small in his pocket. Then he unclasped her hand from the gift and stowed it away in the same place. "Let's do it right now. I can check that the forge is coolin' down at the same time." Jess clearly had no wish to set the barn on fire. "An' while we're about it, you've got some serious listenin' to do!"

Slim remembered his duty as host to this unlikely gathering of wise men and women. "Supper'll be ready soon," he advised, knowing that practically nothing kept Jess from a good meal. But he was in for a shock. As he followed Jess and Chantal to the barn, Jess turned and confronted him in a polite but unmistakable dismissal: "Got an urgent lesson to deliver about appropriate places to be in a snow-storm!" He shut the barn door firmly in Slim's face.

Slim stood staring at the door with a dumbfounded expression. _Jess - missing a meal_? He turned to Sally, who was struggling to keep a straight face, but before he could speak they heard Jess demand: "Escúchame!" It was a word which he had had recourse to on more than one occasion.

"Siempre hago!" Chantal responded, quite untruthfully.

Jess was obviously not putting up with this, as there was a vigorous scuffle, followed by the words: "Maton! Gamberro!" and the yelp of someone who had just been kicked smartly on the ankle. Sally and Slim looked at each other. They had no wish to eavesdrop but neither Jess nor Chantal seemed in the least concerned to keep their voices down. There was a long, rumbling snarl from Jess in what was presumably Spanish or French, followed by several words which sounded as if they had been heavily underlined, after which his tone dropped to a mere growl in which words were undistinguishable. Then Chantal's voice rose suddenly in a surprised demand: "ʖEs más caliente en el heno desván? What d'you mean, it's always warmer in the hayloft!"

There was silence. A deep and long silence.

"You don't think they've killed each other, do you?" Slim asked Sally, genuinely worried.

"No, I don't." Sally put her hand on his arm and gave a tug. "Come on. They just have something to finish." She steered him towards the house. "And stop worrying, they'll be fine!"

"With Jess, that means serious injury!" Slim reminded her.

"I'm sure Chantal will rise to the occasion!" For some reason Sally was giggling as she made her way back to her patients.

Slim stood for a moment, looking after her, with a huge surge of thankfulness for her skills and strength. He tilted his head back again and looked up at the stars, diamond-bright and thick and precious as gems scattered, in their cold beauty, with lavish abandon across the sky above him. It would be easy to feel small and insignificant under such a heaven, but somehow he felt affirmed and even protected.

He looked down with love and gratitude at the warm, welcoming glow shining from the windows of the little ranch house, to which such different travellers had journeyed into shelter and safety. He thought of that other journey to a birth, so many hundreds of years ago and reflected that the special child had, when all was said and done, been born, first and foremost, into the security of a loving family. Surely no human could ask for a greater gift? And magnificent though stars and angels and kings and precious gifts were, nothing could match the warmth and compassion that ordinary people gave. So he offered thanks for the donkey foal on the golden bed of Andy's generosity, for the apple-scented smoke of the friendship log, sweeter than any incense and for the bitter lingering smell of a healing oil that heralded not death but new life - in more ways than one.

#######

NOTES:

"We Three Kings" was written by John Henry Hopkins, Jr., in 1857. At the time of composing the carol, Hopkins served as the rector of Christ Episcopal Church in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. It was composed for a Christmas pageant at a theological college and it was sung within his circle of family and friends. Because of the popularity it achieved among them, Hopkins decided to publish the carol in 1862. It was the first Christmas carol originating from the United States to achieve widespread popularity.

There is an intervening story, which fills in something of the relationship between Jess and Chantal, and which should be finished in the new year. Christmas got priority!


End file.
